


16 and counting

by VeniceLaurel



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Because there are not enough father son relationship fics for these two, Father-Son Relationship, Mix of the two, Not Really Canon Compliant, On Hiatus, Trans Male Character, but compliant at the same time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-17 19:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11857896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeniceLaurel/pseuds/VeniceLaurel
Summary: Damien knew he should not have gone with Mary to that party. He knew he should have stayed with her, no matter how irresponsible she was at times.  He shouldn't have hooked up with that guy in the corner. He had left before Damien woke, so Damien did not even know his name, and forgot what he had looked like.All he knows now, is he is sixteen, and will probably be disowned by his parents for something other than being trans.***ON HIATUS***





	1. Rough beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party goes relatively well if you think trainwrecks are beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, some misgendering and one line of suggestive material.
> 
> Anyway, I was like, why arent there more of Damien and Lucien fics where they interact as son and father. So I wrote one. This is from my personal headcanons and will be for the whole fic.

Mary huffed, dragging her brother away from the safety of his reading chair. "C’mon," she wined. "Stop being boring. You gotta live once in your high school life. Do it while you’re still young. Go to a party" Damien held onto the frame of the doorway of his room. The reading chair next to his small collection of Victorian novels on an antique bookshelf was way more appealing than social interaction with what he considered to be pushy, loud, and unappealing people. Right now, on a Friday night, he would rather sit in his room, listening to classical violin, reading a book, or drafting a novel himself. He loved Mary to death, as she was the only one who knew the truth about him, and accepted him anyways, but she could be a bit too wild for his tastes sometimes.

"Really, go on without me," his fingers gave away, sending him reeling towards Mary. He stumbled to regain his balance, careful to not crash into his parents' expensive wall decor. "Parties are not my cup of tea." Mary groaned. She thought for a minute, looking at an old painting to her left, as if the answer to bring Damien out of his shell would be in the background, right next to the manger depicting Jesus' birth. She grinned.

"What if I told you that Ben will be there. And he would think it would be cool if you came," Mary smirked, knowing Damien's weakness. Damien narrowed his eyes, trying to act nonchalant. Inside, his heart fluttered. He and Mary had known Ben from third grade. They were good friends back in the day up until high school, when people mixed with new people and drifted from old friends. Ben had changed from when Damien first had feelings for him til now. He had become more outgoing, a bit less mature, and less sensitive. Damien hated this, but the crush still remained. Haunting him, giving him the false hope that he could bring back the old Ben if he wiggled back into his life.

Damien stopped struggling against Mary, who had continued pulling Damien in her direction. "Fine." He knew it was a bad idea. He knew there would most likely be alcohol. There would be drunken sexual advances. Ben himself would most likely be one of the drunks stumbling around, making a fool of themselves. Damien knew this should be bad. He said yes anyway, again because of that false hope at a functional relationship with the boy he once knew. The boy that had died and been replaced by a ghost of himself. 

Maybe Damien was being dramatic. 

He still couldn't shake the feeling he would do something stupid. He promised himself to stay close to Mary for the evening. Mary grinned and jingled her car keys. "If we get caught, I promise I will take all the blame." Damien grumbled as he was led to the bright yellow car with a "Jesus loves me" bumper sticker. Mary opens the door, "Your seat, sir" Damien rolled his eyes. Mary sat in the driver's seat and started the engine. The car sputtered but eventually found enough energy to start. After a silent five minutes, Mary said "If at any time you want to leave, I will too." Damien softened his expression. 

"Thanks."

"Hey, no problem." Mary sighed. "I'm sorry I bribed you with Ben, but I think that getting out will be good for you." Damien looked out the window and grumbled. His introverted self would always prefer books over people, unless it was Mary. He preferred Mary over books. They sat in silence for a bit until Mary lightens the mood with, "when I inherit this car, I'm going to cover that sticker over with an 'I love Jesus cause he turns my water to wine' sticker." Damien chuckles as they pull into a neighborhood filled with cars front of one house. "This is it."

Mary parallel parks next to a white sports car and a red slug bug, giving a punch to Damien. Damien spots the house and immediately regrets the decision even more than before. The house is overcrowded with neon lights and blaring music. Mary pulls him out of the car. He reluctantly follows to the giant house. Inside, the house was even more crowded than it had looked room the outside, and the music is louder. He feels like he would have to shout to talk to anyone, so he remains silent. Mary grabs his hand to ensure that he won't become hopelessly lost. 

However, he soon does become hopelessly lost as a few other girls run up to Mary, grabbing her other hand, and pulling her out of Damien’s grasp and to a remote part of the house, as she is unable to be found. Damien immediately starts to panic. He does not know what to do. Who does he go to, does he dance, and will anyone laugh at him? In his panic, he decides to do the easiest thing that no one will laugh at him for. He decides to find the punch bowl and take a drink. After stumbling through a crowd of people dancing to no beat in particular, he finds a plastic covered table holding two massive bowl of punch. 

He did not even realize that these were most likely spiked with vodka. He took two cups, feeling dehydrated from the stress. Damien downed both of them, wanting one more. Should punch sting his throat that much? Why did he feel lighter? He should dance, shouldn't he. It would make him feel better. He downed the third cup of punch, and one of the party goers cheered him on.

"Chug, chug, chug!" Damien tried to locate the source of the chant. It came from a tall guy with curly red hair. Shaved on one side of his head, leaving the top longer to cover his left eye. He wore a loose Pink Floyd shirt and tight black jeans. His blue eyes shone from across the crowded table. Damien's heart leapt. Ben /was/ here. Damien smiled, grabbing one more drink to chug for Ben. After throwing back the drink, Ben cheered. He motioned for Damien to come over. Damien complied, happy to please. 

"Danielle, I didn't know you would be here." Ben took his hand. Damien frowned a bit. He started to correct his old friend, figuring he could know too, but Ben interrupted him. "How's it been? Is Mary here? How is she?" 

"It's been great." Damien smiled, feeling much too light for his liking. He looked Ban up and down, happy to be part of his circle again, even if it was for just one party. 

"You never really took me for someone who would down that much vodka. I thought you would be a lightweight when it comes to that stuff." Damien giggles at this. He impressed Ben. Maybe he likes Damien back if he is impressed by this. "You, wanna dance." Damien nods, still out of it. Who cares if he is bad, Ben definitely likes him back. 

"Dude, I love you man," Damien slurs out. "I have like-liked you for the longest time. I'm so glad you like me back." Ben freezes half way to the dancefloor. He sighs, instead leading Damien the opposite direction, to an enclosed bedroom. Damien tries to wolf whistle, but is suddenly too tired to. He follows silently. Once inside the room, Ben sighs again. He sits down on the bed. 

"Look Danielle, I..." He sits and thinks for a minute. His tone barely keeps Damien sober for two seconds. "I don't... think of you like that." Damien laughs.

"Sure you do, what was that out there?" Ben stands up, looking melancholy.

"Listen, you have changed so much since we last saw each other. You used to be so quiet and chill, now you're out here getting drunk at a party. If this is the new you, maybe we should stay away from each other. You know..." Reality hit Damien like a train. The lightness in his head turned to a pounding ache. He felt more tired than before, and now horrible. He had messed everything up. There was not even a false hope anymore. That had crumbled.

"No, wait!" Damien pleaded. "I didn't..."

"I'm sorry. If you ever clean up you act, I will most likely welcome you back." Ben left the room without a word. Damien felt tears weld up in his eyes. He did not expect anything like this to happen. The night was a blur after that. He followed the trail back to the punch table. He had heard of people drowning their sorrows in alcohol. He knew it was stupid, and irresponsible, and dangerous, but he drank anyway. He stumbled around, dancing, making a fool of himself. He could dance to forget, as they always said. He tried to find Mary to say he wanted to leave, but he only found a stranger in the corner of the room. The stranger looked familiar, and he held a drink in his hand. 

Damien sat next to the stranger. "You good?" The kid looked up and sighed. 

"You look just like someone I used to like." he rubbed his free hand over his eye as if wiping away a tear. "I told her to clean up her act. I was such a hypocrite. I mean, I even encouraged her to do what I yelled at her for." He sobbed. "I'm an asshole. A terrible person." Damien cried alongside the stranger. 

"No you aren't honey. I'm sure she would understand if you apologized." Damien stroked his hand, comforting the distressed stranger. The stranger smiled and kissed Damien's hand as it lay on top of his.

"You are just as beautiful and nice as she is." He held her hand. Kissing Damien up the arm. Damien blushed.

"You are too." He giggled. 

"Wanna see the room I took her too?" The stranger came closer, clearly as drunk as Damien was. His eyes shone bright blue, contrasting his beautiful curly orange hair. Damien was too lost in his eyes to notice the familiar surroundings of the room he was in about an hour ago. He was too entranced in the kissing to notice the Pink Floyd shirt, that was soon tossed to the floor.

He was good. Damien completely forgot about Ben as the stranger lay on Damien's chest, sweating and panting. He blacked out for the rest of the night.  
\-------------------------------- 

"Damien!" Mary shook her brother, completely worried. Unrealistic thoughts ran through her head. Had he died? Is he poisoned and closed to dying? Is he in a coma? "DAMIEN!" The boy finally stirred. Emotions ran through Mary's being. Anger, relief, anxiety. But mostly relief. She sighed. "Put some clothes on, we're leaving. Our parents are coming home early. If they ask, we were at the bookstore to pick out the next big Victorian author, or whatever. I leave you to give you some privacy." Damien groaned. Everything was too loud. His head hurt. What time was it? He turned over to find the bed empty. He felt stickiness all over his body, but most prominently between his legs and on his inner thighs. Once the door clicked shut, Damien gathered his clothes, ignoring the pain in his lower abdomen.

once dressed, he left the room to find the house relatively empty and too bright. It was morning, explaining the prominent hangover. Damien barely remembered hopping into his car and getting home. Mary talked about a guy she met, and was now dating. Some guy named Joseph, or something. She made a comment about how they both got laid that night, but Damien was too tired to really care. Once they were home, before their parents thank god, Damien took a shower and put on loose fitting clothing. The next week or so, Mary and Damien were careful to not talk about the party around their parents. Their lives were normal for a bit.  
\-------------------------------- 

Damien hated periods. They were always a reminder of the wrongness of his body. So why was he so worried when his didn't come.

Damien loved strawberries. Why couldn't he stand the sight of them anymore. He opted for dried bananas, which he hated.

Damien was never short with Mary. Why did her hair dryer noise make him so angry. And why was he so sad afterwards.

Damien had the best gag reflexes. So why did he throw up three mornings in a row brushing his teeth.

Damien always loved art. The different lines made him so interested in the rest of the piece, interested in the colors, interested in the expression, the emotion, the movement.

why did lines make him sad now? Was it because they told him something he did not want to hear.


	2. "The months ahead" or "Still rough beginnings"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damien contemplates life, gains weight, watches a marching band, and learns who to trust with the baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup. So I know last chapter sort of sucked and was short, but it was a prologue I guess (I might rewrite it) This is like 4500 wrd long. me hope u liek. me do wrds gud, lol
> 
> A warning, misgendering and stuff, but Mary is helpful.

A yellow car was parked outside of the clinic. The cheerful signs about Planned Parenthood out front would have clashed with the “Jesus loves you” sticker on the back of the car to some people. The sun shone brightly, adding to the joyful tone of the day. Damien hated it. He couldn’t stand that he was about to do this on such a bright, gleeful day. The loose sweatshirt barely hid his month-old baby bump. Why, why did he go to that dumb party? Why did he have to be in this body? It already caused him enough problems as it is. Damien was angry. He was sad. He couldn’t even tell if it was hormones or his actual feelings anymore. That made him hate it more.  
Mary had blamed herself. She had dragged him out of the door. She had gotten lost, pulled away from her brother. She hadn’t even looked for him until after she slept with some guy named Joseph. She had laughed at that. Joseph and Mary, the power couple of the bible, going against what her extremely religious parents would approve of. Mary had initially thought this was her punishment for bad behavior, but Damien insisted otherwise. Deep down though, Damien blamed her. He tried to convince himself that was just hormones too, but he still felt guilty.  


To stop what she had started, Mary had taken Damien to a clinic. “Terminate it,” She pleaded. “Before our parents know, before you ruin your life because of a stupid mistake on my part. This is my fault; you don’t have to suffer for it.” Damien was rushed to the car before he could answer. He kept a hand on his stomach the whole way there, thinking. When Mary got out of the car, Damien remained preoccupied. He would not get out of the car, so they sat there. Air conditioning on, no music on the radio, and Mary with her hands clasped in her lap, muttering prayers under her breath.  


Damien looked out the window at the scenery. He should not keep it. He was not ready. He was only 16 in high school. How would he juggle school and a baby? If his parents refused to help, which they most likely would, he would also have to get a job to support the baby, and maybe even himself too, if his parents kicked him out. Would he have to drop out of school? How would he be able to get a steady job then?  


Alongside that, nine months of dysphoria. Nine long, painful months of reminder, that he was physically wrong. He would have to deal with the cramps, the back pain, the swollen ankles, enlarged body parts, the constant fatigue, mood, hunger, needing to use the bathroom every five minutes, finally going to the hospital to have the doctors and nurses mistakenly call him a “proud mother.” He knew he should not blame them. They did not know him. They were taught in medical school that a certain body was connected to a certain gender, and that they should focus on helping the patient, not focus on the formalities of pronouns. Still, he dreaded it.  
But this child, this tiny bundle of cells as of yet, was his. He had always dreamed of finally being a parent. Never thought he would be 16 and have a child, but it was still his child. He felt close to it, though he knew he should not be. He did not want it this early, did he? Maybe it was the hormones.  


Damien couldn’t convince himself that it was hormones.  


He wanted this child. He did not want to get rid of it. He would regret it for the rest of his life. He knew he would.  


Damien finally opened his mouth. Mary immediately stopped her prayer with a quick “amen” and looked patiently towards Damien. He rubbed his stomach subconsciously. “I can’t do this.” Mary looked to his face, searching for more clues to the meaning of this statement. Seeing her confusion, he added, “I can’t terminate this pregnancy. I…” He paused. “I don’t know how to explain it… I just.” Mary held up her hand.  


“You don’t need to explain it. I get it.” She paused, turning her head to look at the clinic. “Honestly, I might have made a big deal about this baby ruining your future, but if it was me, I would keep it too. Not because of our parent’s backwards ideals, but because of parental instincts I guess.” She grinned halfheartedly. “Plus, the last time I rushed you into something you didn’t want, we ended up at an abortion clinic at two thirty on a Saturday.” She put the keys in the ignition. Damien tried to return the grin, and genuinely appreciated Mary’s support, but feelings of dread rushed back in full force.  


Now that he decided he would keep his child, how his parents would react would determine his entire future. No matter what they decided, he would have to juggle school and a baby. If they decided to kick him out, he would have to juggle school, a baby and a job. Damien looked over to Mary. Her eyes were focused on the road, but glinted with multiple emotions. Damien could pick out regret, guilt, and empathy out of the bundle of complicated feelings. Damien smiled. He would most likely have Mary at his back during this ordeal, no matter what.  


\-------------------------------------------- 

One month and fifteen days in, the baby bump would soon become big enough to not be hidden by the continual loose t-shirts and hoodies Damen wore around his parents. He even wore loose dresses (much to his displeasure) to church on Sundays.  


The bump would soon not be able to be blamed on the “sudden weight gain” Damien had experienced. He claimed his doctor recommended a diet of carbs to fill in his surprisingly thin physique. Soon, his friends would realize there was no carb diet. They would either leave, or stay to support him, or even go out of their way to criticize his choice. Damien dreaded the reaction of his friends, but dreaded his parents’ more.  


On this particular day, they had guests over for dinner. The guests were another church family with a son two years older than Damien. He was usually passive, and wore green. He often glanced around at the various décor in the house with expressions of haughty arrogance, disgust, and amusement most likely aimed at “peasants” like Damien and Mary. He was competitive and often felt like he needed to rise above everyone. The parents were no different, as the apple does not fall far from the tree.  


The mother was just as arrogant, though more vocal about her judgements. She would say things like “So, I see your daughters have decided to continue with public schools” Accompanied with a downward glance, raised eyebrows, and the arrogant tone that matched all villainous characters’ tones in movies. The father was the silent one. Though not as judgmental, he always encouraged his family to nitpick and criticize every detail. He prompted conversations about the latest detail to nitpick, pointing out physical appearances, activities or personality traits like a vulture.  


So it was just Damien’s luck that this was the moment the father decided to ask about his façade diet. He felt like he belonged on a sitcom, or a story that used clichés just to advance the plot, and then pointed out those clichés in a never ending cycle to seem like they are above such clichés. This would only happen in sitcoms, or self-aware stories that think they are clever.  


“So Brian tells me that you are on a new diet. Carbs, He says,” The father prompted. Brian, the son, smirked like a child who had gotten someone in trouble when he was the one to blame. Damien looked around nervously, noticing his parents’ expressions of confusion.  


“Danielle is not on a diet.” Damien’s mother explains. “Her doctor claims she is perfectly healthy.”  


“She has been gaining a bit of weight though,” Brian mutters. “I would never gain as much as her.” He directed this towards his mother who nodded. Damien was tempted to roll his eyes. Brian had begun to put on some weight, much more than Damien. Not enough to be unhealthy, but enough to be more than Damien. He decides not to be as rude as the family before him and keeps his mouth shut.  


“Well, we might have to talk to Danielle about that, but seeing as a lady’s weight is no one’s business but her doctor’s, lets discuss the book we are reading for bible study.” Damien’s mother smiles. The book she is referring to, of course is The Problems of Modern Culture and How to Avoid Them. Damien hates the fact that there is no laugh track in the distance because his mother then says, “The chapter we are reading this is very compelling. I agree that the media’s representation of sex is harmful to youth. If one of my daughters was ever influence by those…practices…” She spat the word as if it was poison. “…and became pregnant, I do not know what I would do.” Damien bet that the author of his cliché story was really having a ball with shameless tropes. “I might just have to kick her out to teach her a lesson.” Damien’s mother laughs. She turns to her daughter and son. “Let this be a lesson to you two.”  


Damien was almost not surprised by this. If his luck could get any worse, Mary would agree and ditch him right there. Damien and Mary sat through the rest of the dinner in relative silence, not that they ever talked while guest were at their parent’s home. After the diner, the guests left with their formal good-byes and farewells. Damien was prepared to call it a night, having enough of his family for the day. However, his mother had different plans. She stopped Damien on the way to his bedroom.  


“Why would Brian say you were on an all carb diet?” She questions, more to herself, inspecting Damien for the answer. Her eyes scan his body, his face, anywhere for the extra pounds Brian claimed Damien held. Her eyes failed to find any significant change until they landed on his stomach, where the formal dinner dress bulged ever so slightly. His mother attempted to hide the look of realization in her eyes. She quickly looked somewhere else, anywhere else to not give away that she knew. Damien saw it though. The look in her eyes when she puzzled the clues together, when she finally figured out that she would have to commit to her promise to be rid of a child.  


His mother just played it off. She shrugged and left to her room shared with Damien’s father, waiting until Damien was asleep, out of earshot, gone from the house to spill the secret, the suspicions. To spare Damien one more night of rest in a bed, under a roof, with a full stomach and clothes on his back. Damien couldn’t sleep that night. The anxious chattering and barely-whispers from the room across the hall kept him up.  


\---------------------------------------------------------- 

Damien always loved marching bands. If he ever changed his name, he would include march somewhere in the last name. He admired their skill, dedication, impressive foot work and complete uniform. His high school marching band was not perfect, but they were still great to watch. He actually tried out to be in the drumline, but once he had the bass on for one day, he was exhausted. It was not even the heaviest drum; in fact, it was the lightest on the line. Who ever played bass, or anything on the drumline, had to have serious muscle.  


So there he stood watching the band practice after school on Thursday, two months pregnant. He watched as they went over their charts, dots, and step offs, always with the left foot first, marking time when they did not move. He watched the drumline preform their cadence. His favorite part about it was how everyone was involved. The low brass chanted, the woodwinds moved their instruments in a uniform motion, and the trumpets hopped and spun while the drumline played.  


It always made him happy to see people who banded together, pun intended, to form one giant family. A family who always stuck together, no matter if one person stepped out of line for one second, causing the whole group to bust apart. They just laughed it off and went on with their lives. It made Damien jealous.  


His parents had kicked him out. He knew they would eventually. He heard their whispering through the walls every night, plotting, worrying, and even shouting at each other. Damien barely got any sleep. They had waited until their suspicions were confirmed. Damien had to give them some credit for that.  


The one chance Damien’s mother got, she took him to the doctor. He had morning sickness, giving his mother the perfect excuse to take him to that horrid office. His mother looked smug, but melancholy at the same time, if that was possible. When the doctor took him in, the usual procedures were performed. First, blood pressure. There was something off about it though. The doctor told him to relax for a bit and the pressure would return to normal. Next, ears and eyes. Both perfectly normal. Finally, heartbeat. The doctor claimed he heard something besides the heartbeat and lungs Damien had. The doctor shooed Damien’s mother out of the room before asking the questions.  


Have you been sexually active recently? Are your menstrual cycles regular? Have you missed any? Do you feel fatigued ore often, nausea, weird cravings, etc? The doctor recommended an ultrasound. His mother took him home. She sat him down, bringing his father home from work in the middle of the day. They sat down, shared options. Option one, Damien is kicked out and disowned. That was it. His parents said they would have his things packed when he got home from school. They made him walk. The day was over by the time he got there, but it was right as the band was starting to line up to go to the field.  


He did not know how long he had been there, but Mary appeared at his side soon enough. “I thought I would find you here.” She looked at his face, soaking in the emotions his eyes held. Bitterness, hopelessness, jealousy, exhaustion, hatred. Mary did not like this look Damien had to him. She turned him towards her, pulling him in for a gentle hug. She held him there, through the quiet sobs and jerks of his shoulders, through the loud cries and tear stained shoulders, through the curious and sympathetic stares of the marching band, through the band coming over to stare through the fence, reaching through to comfort Mary’s brother with her. Mary wanted to shoo them, hiss at them, but the quiet tears that ran down her face shown with her own exhaustion. Her own sadness. Her own bitterness. She let the giant family, in all but blood, comfort her broken one.  


One of the trumpets finally suggested they be left alone, that their group could not do anything other than a pat on the back through the chain-linked fence. The band calls it a quit for the day, feeling that no one would be in the mood to practice anymore. Plus, it was the time they usually let out. This gives Mary a chance to pull away, and look Damien in the eyes.  


“I am going to move away soon. I’m taking you with me. Away from this place, away from anyone who gives you any shit, away from our parents.” She lifts his chin with her finger gently. “I gotta go to college sometime right? I think now might be a great time to go back and get some education.” Her eyes shine with hope. With mischievousness. Damien is hopeful to.  


“Of course.” He hugs Mary again, tears still running down his face. “When are we leaving?”

\--------------------------------------------------- 

At two months and one week, Damien moved north. He was never strong at geography, so he did not know anything other than “north.” Damien had his things conveniently packed by his parents, and set on the porch to pick up, with no regards to thieves or garbage men. Damien had gotten there before either, and temporarily moved into Mary’s car. Sure enough, now that it was her car, she had covered the sticker with the one she had hoped to get. Mary had hastily searched for an apartment close to the college of her choice, filed the paperwork, and rented a room with two other college students. It was close to a high school, adding convenience for Damien. It was an easy walking distance, making it even better for Damien. Even though he could drive, he did not have a car, and relied on Mary’s car.  


However, he was not in good spirits when he left for “north.” He had not been in good spirits for the week previous; however the last day had proven one of the worst.  


Damien had been still going to classes, telling all who mattered to him that he would move soon, and most likely not see them for a while, or at all in the years to come. So naturally, word spread and the whole school soon learned that Damien was leaving. He was not sure how word got out, since he did not tell anyone the details, though he suspected someone from the marching band with surprisingly good hearing spilled the beans, but it was soon all over the school that his parents had kicked him out for getting “knocked up.” He was soon getting either support from people, offering help or a person to talk to, or rude, hateful and snide comments, unflattering names or other horrible verbal abuse. No one would hurt him physically, and for that he was grateful.  


This lasted the whole week until the day he moved. He had returned all his books, answered all the questions the deans had for him, and tried to hold it together when teachers called his parents about “Danielle” but were only met with mock confusion about a daughter they never had. Teachers gave up, and offered Damien time in the counselor’s office to talk, but he always refused.  


Finally, the last day for him arrived. He had collected all of his belonging from his locker, ready for the bell to ring to dismiss him from the last period of the day. The teacher droned on about the work to do over the weekend to prepare for the project to be assigned on Monday, but Damien was not listening. The bell finally rang while the teacher was still talking about responsibility, and the class left before he could finish. Damien remained, gathering his things into his bag. The teacher offered one last goodbye and good luck before Damien was off.  


He had barely made it past the first turn in the hall when he ran into Ben. The tall ginger regarded him with a small nod. Damien returned it, not remembering the party and what was said or done. He began to walk off, but Ben held a hand on his shoulder. Damien turned, expecting a long spiel and goodbye. He was not in the mood to get and long winded apology or good luck from a former best friend so he just stood, waiting until it was over.  


Ben just looked at him, nervous and shaking. His eyes shone with regret, and guilt but Damien had no clue why. “Listen, Danielle,” he began. His right hand rested on his hip as the other ran through his curls. He chewed his lip for comfort until he broke the skin. “I don’t know how to start this.” Damien would have sighed it he was not so polite. Here came the lengthy wish of luck in the days ahead and “I hope you have a good life.” Ben paused, leaving Damien in bored anticipation. Ben took a deep breath and continued. “Remember the party two months ago?” Damien was not in the mood.  


“How could I forget,” He spat bitterly. He immediately regretted it, but did not take back the statement.  


“Well,” Ben continued, looking down. “You did not even remember me before, well.” He stumbled over his words as he told the story. “You came up to me, and I was drunk over something I said to you. Neither of us knew who the other was. We were both wasted.” He paused. “We…we sort of…well, we slept together. And unless you have done that with anyone else in the past month, and I know you enough to know that you haven’t…” Damien’s eyes widened. Ben was the father. The one person that he had ever had a crush on was the father of his child. The one person he had hated so much for changing, the one person who he actually despised for luring him in and toying with his feelings without even knowing, the one person he hated, yet loved.  


Damien was pissed. He was furious. He snapped.  


“You don’t know anything about me!” He shouted. The hall had emptied of students and teachers by then, who had gone home to enjoy their lives. Damien’s voice echoes off the walls and carpet-less floors. “You don’t even know me enough to know that my name is Damien, not Danielle! You don’t know me enough to realize that I had a sliver of hope that you would go back to the person I once liked, away from immaturity and back to being my friend from when we were kids. I had a tiny sliver of hope that was dying because you could never be that person!” Damien shook. His eye stung with tears, threatening to fall. He choked back a sob. “You don’t know me enough to realize that I hate who you have become, but still love you because deep down, you’re still the person I knew!” Damien covered his eyes. “Stop it! Stop acting differently around different people! Stop toying with me.” Damien’s voice had lowered to a quiet, pitiful whimper. He and no idea what he had said, and by the look of Ben, neither did he. He had rambled, not made sense. But made perfect sense at the same time.  


Ben was stunned. He approached Damien cautiously, pulling him into a hug. “I’m sorry Dan…Damien.” Damien shuttered. Why did Ben have to be so kind? Why was he exactly like the kid Damien once knew when they were alone, but threw that away in favor of his new friends? “You don’t have to keep the baby. Stay here. We can work on the things you just said, without worrying about a burden like that.” Damien shook his head.  
“No, I have nothing here. I want to keep my child, and I need a new beginning.” Damien pulled away from the hug. “Maybe in a distant future, if we meet again…” Ben nodded.  


“I guess it is for the best.” Ben agreed. “Plus, I should only worry about the baby my sister just had, to keep me sane, but if you need me, you know where to find me. I want to help, it is my child too” Damien wiped away the remainder of his tears, and gave one last goodbye before turning his back on his past. He headed outside, where Mary was waiting for him. He told her of the conversation as they headed to their new life. 

\------------------------------------------------- 

At three months, Damien started his first job. It was a humble cashier job at a local antique shop. He also stocked the shelves, looking over many of the Victorian era items and writing down his favorite quotes from the owner of the shop about said period. It earned enough money to be able to help Mary with rent. He was not too overwhelmed with classwork, giving him more time to work at his great job.  


At three and a half months, Damien took up a computers course. Damien learned all about early 2001 computer models. He learned coding, how to find the best programs for protection, how to create his own firewalls and defense against viruses. He was tested on various solutions to various problems. The class came easy to him, as he was very intelligent when it came to math, science, problem solving, and oddly enough, battle strategy. And despite his obvious and growing interest with Victorian culture, he decided to pursue a career in computing as he got older.  


At four months, he went with Mary to the doctor to check on the baby. Everything was fine, and Damien was able to see his child for the first time via ultrasound. However, Damien soon worried about the expenses of his future medical treatments. Mary chuckled and whispered into his ear, “I am still technically on our parents insurance. Our plan will make sure that they do not notice us using it for quite a while. By the time they do, we will most likely be stable enough to get our own.” Damien laughed alongside her for the first time in months.  


At four and a half months, Damien was diagnosed with anxiety. Mary took the medication prescription behind Damien’s back, as he refused it in case it hurt his baby. She took an online course to learn how to help treat and prevent panic attacks. She decided to save the prescription for extreme cases. Damien had a total of three panic attacks in his fourth month, including before and after the diagnosis. He would have had much more serious attacks if Mary was not there to help him.  


At five months, Damien was left alone for a week. Mary came home to see Damien perfectly fine on his own. She thought this was a miracle until she saw the prescription bottle half empty. She vowed never to leave for that long again.  


At six months, Damien could learn the sex of the baby. He chose to not learn it, but that did not mean Mary would not be curious. She snuck the information out of the file, promising not to say the sex until after the baby was born. Damien made a list of names for the child, not sure of what to call it.  


At six and a half months, Damien finalized the list. Lucien or Eliza. Boy or girl.  


At seven months, Damien learned that his child would be named Lucien. Mary could not apologize enough for letting it slip, but Damien was too excited to care.  


At eight months, Damien was rushed to the hospital. He believed he was going to die. He thought the baby, that Lucien, would die. He was scared. He almost had a panic attack. Mary suppressed it.  


At eight months and one day, Damien felt the most physical pain he had ever felt in his life, Mary received a hairline fractures in each of her hands, and Lucien was rushed to extensive care to continue developing in incubation. Damien cried. He was exhausted, and in pain. Mary was there for him, her hands bandaged and broken.  


At nine months, Lucien was brought to the tiny apartment that Mary and Damien called home, and welcomed with open arms into the world.


End file.
